


spooky scary... aliens?

by velvetnoodle (goldfishsunglasses)



Series: the one where harry is an alien [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alien Harry Styles, Halloween, M/M, kind of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 13:56:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18316616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfishsunglasses/pseuds/velvetnoodle
Summary: It’s a new occurrence, this feelings thing. And it’s quite inconvenient, really. He doesn’t know how Louis does it. (He doesn’t know how other humans do it either, but he cares less about them than he does about Louis.)ORthe one where harry’s still an alien





	spooky scary... aliens?

**Author's Note:**

> quote in the beginning is from buffy the vampire slayer. the rest is from my brain. enjoy!

_ “Do you love my insides? The parts you can’t see?” _

_ “Eyeballs to entrails, my sweet.” _

Harry watches as Louis mouths along with the words on the television. And he thinks. His mind wanders, and it settles on a thought he’s been working to ignore lately. Louis is too engrossed in his vampire show to notice how quiet Harry’s gotten, and Harry doesn’t really feel like trying to get his attention. 

Harry doesn’t feel like doing a lot of things.

Like  _ feeling _ .

It’s a new occurrence, this  _ feelings  _ thing. And it’s quite inconvenient, really. He doesn’t know how Louis does it. (He doesn’t know how other humans do it either, but he cares less about them than he does about Louis.)

About three-quarters of the way through the episode, Louis asks Harry if he’s feeling okay, and Harry waves him off. Because he doesn’t feel things, silly Louis. Louis doesn’t exactly look like he believes Harry, but he drops the subject anyway. He doesn’t even protest when Harry lies down on the couch that’s too short for him and rests his head in Louis’ lap. Instead, he just gently removes the clip from the top of Harry’s head and slips off the bandana he’d been using to hold his lengthening hair away from his face. 

Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s curls, and he lets out a purr that sounds oddly close to something an Earth cat would say. He’s well on his way to falling asleep - if that was something he actually did, that is - when Louis turns off the television screen and gently pushes at Harry until he’s sitting upright again. 

“Time to get ready for Liam’s party.” He looks at Harry. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

Harry nods. He’s sure. 

“Just thought I’d check,” Louis says, and Harry doesn’t know if he’s meant to stand when Louis does and follow him when he leaves the room, but Harry does it anyway. Louis will make fun of him for this sometimes, calls him clingy. Harry chooses to take it as a compliment since Louis never looks upset when he says it, so it can’t be too bad. 

He doesn’t follow Louis into the bathroom; he’s finally accepted that he can only do that when Louis extends an invitation, so he sits on their (their!!!) bed and waits as patiently as he can. 

Which is sort of a lot, actually. Even if he sometimes pretends the opposite because it seems to make Louis happy. 

He likes to make Louis happy. 

It’s a feeling. It’s terrible. 

(And yet, he allows it to stay.)

Eventually, and after a lot of odd noises that Harry only just resists the urge to investigate, Louis walks back out of the bathroom and does a slow twirl while Harry watches. Harry tilts his head as he takes in Louis’ new appearance, which seems to please Louis and make him giggle. Harry likes when Louis makes that noise because it means Harry’s made him happy. Harry likes to make Louis happy, and he would be more satisfied with his achievement if he wasn’t so confused. 

“Why are you dressed like my mother?” he says, and Louis frowns. 

“Your— Harry, I’m Stevie Nicks? Remember? We went shopping for this outfit last week, you’re the one who found these boots?” He punctuates this with a little kick, like Harry could ever forget those boots, and that makes the skirt of his black lace dress flutter with the movement. “Wait…” he says, and Harry watches his eyes go wide. “You’re not saying…”

“No, I will not elaborate,” Harry says quickly, standing up and leaving the room and feeling his stomach clench with what he’s come to recognise as the feeling humans get when they feel guilty. He’s said too much. He’s come to close to broaching the subject they dance around, and he’s gone and made it weird. 

Feelings are the  _ worst _ . 

He catches sight of himself in the hall mirror and cringes at his overly Human appearance It’s possible that Louis only loves him like this, in his human form, despite what Louis might say. He’s never seen Harry, not really, and Harry decides then and there that he’s going to change that. 

Louis’ draping a large black piece of fabric over his shoulders when Harry returns, and his eyes go a bit wide as he notices Harry standing in the doorway. The fact that he isn’t screaming gives Harry the courage to fully enter the room. He wishes now more than ever that he was still incapable of feeling  _ feelings _ . 

Like nervousness. (And dread.)

Louis circles him slowly, a curious expression on his face. His kohl-rimmed eyes run up Harry’s body and down again, and Harry braces himself for Louis’ reaction.

“Okay,” he says eventually, “who did your makeup? It’s too good, it looks so realistic, babe!”

“What are you talking about?”

Louis stops mid-step. “This isn’t a Halloween costume?”

“What’s Halloween?”

“Haz… That’s why we’re going to Liam’s, remember? It’s a Halloween party, and everyone’s gonna be in fancy dress. Is this… is this not that?”

“Not what?”

“Fancy dress.”

Harry pouts. He’s not quite sure what Louis’ talking about, but he knows he’s wrong. “No, it’s not. It’s me.”

“Oh. Alright.” 

“Is it… Is this okay?” Harry asks, and his voice sounds foreign to him, which is jarring because it shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be used to his human voice. 

And yet. 

Louis steps into his space, places a hand on Harry’s skin. He doesn’t flinch or grimace or show any outward signs of repulsion, and Harry sort of loves that. 

“It doesn’t matter what you look like, love. You’re still my boyfriend, and I still want to be with you. And I’m sorry if I’ve done something to make you think otherwise.” He does look truly sorry, and Harry decides he’ll try and believe the words. 

Still, it’s quite strange, Harry thinks, to be referred to as a boyfriend, when he’s, well, not a boy. Or a friend, whatever that is. (Kidding, he knows about friends.) (He’s the best at friendship, even if maybe everybody doesn’t know it yet.)

“I can’t be your boyfriend, Louis,” he giggles. “I’m not even a boy.”

“That’s fair,” Louis says, and then grins. “Baby,” he says next, like he can’t contain it anymore, “you put the extra in extraterrestrial.”

Harry makes a face. “Even I know that was terrible.”

Louis’ joke has managed to lift the tension in the room, and Harry can move his feet again. He uses this regained ability to make his way to the bathroom and hopes Louis understands that Harry doesn’t want him to leave yet. 

When Harry emerges, he looks like himself again. Or, at least, the version Louis is most familiar with. Louis approaches him slowly again, just like before, and Harry watches him come closer. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he tells Harry. “I really didn’t mind.”

Harry just shrugs. He doesn’t really want to talk about it anymore tonight. He just watches Louis invade his space again, and lets him, and watches as Louis lifts a hand to cup his cheek. And lets him. He lets Louis kiss him until they’re both breathless, and he has to work to regain the power of speech. 

“Do you love my insides?” Harry asks nervously. “The parts you can’t see?”

Louis pats his cheek. “Eyeballs to entrails, my sweet.”

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr here!](http://velvetnoodle.tumblr.com/post/183871746037/its-a-new-occurrence-this-feelings-thing-and)


End file.
